Stolen Heirs
by Citywriter84
Summary: Harry is about to begin his sixth year at Hogwarts and he is on top of the world. The magical world now know he was right about Voldemort's return and herald him as the Chosen One. But then his hopes are dashed when Romilda Vane confronts him with an appalling secret that turns his entire world upside down and tears apart what he held most dear. Set in the movie world.


**Romilda's Secret**

 _Author's Note: In the book, Romilda Vane is younger than Harry, but in the films they are in the same year group and this is based on the film's world. In this fanfic, she has a special reason to be interested in Harry. It goes back to before he was the Chosen One._

* * *

Harry had heard the whispers behind his back as he boarded the Hogwarts Express. Last year the magical community had branded him delusional or a liar by turns and now they praised him for being "the Chosen One." Frankly he prefered the Boy Who Lived. Chosen One sounded so generic. He reflected how Lockhart had been quite right. Fame was indeed a fickle friend. Now he was regarded has a hero, but next year who knew? They might start hating him again on some other ropey pretext.

He preferred to sit with Luna and Neville. He smiled at Luna who had placed her multi-coloured Spectre-specs over her eyes. She didn't let it get to her, what other people thought.

At that moment Romilda Vane boldly strode into their compartment. "Hi Harry, why don't you come to our compartment?" She glanced at Luna and Neville and tossed black her long curly black hair, then added in a stage whisper. "You don't have to sit with them."

"They're friends of mine," said Harry coldly.

"Oh Okay," said Romilda, narrowing her dark eyes. She withdrew, closing the sliding door behind her.

"People expect you to have cooler friends than us," said Luna.

"You are cool," said Harry shortly. None of them was at the Ministry. They didn't fight with me."

"That's a very nice thing to say," beamed Luna. And then she shoved the Spectre-specs further up her nose and settled down to read the Quibbler.

Later when Harry received the invitation to Slughorn's compartment Romilda Vane was standing outside. She let Neville pass, but then blocked Harry's way.

"What is it, Harry? Do you think I'm ugly?"

Harry looked at her rich tan skin, her freckled nose and cheeks and her cascade of glorious, curly hair. She was attractive, but he wasn't interested in her. She was just rude and shallow.

"I'm the Chosen one today, but fame is a fickle friend. Like many people."

She grinned. "You think I'm only interested in the hype? Here." She thrust an envelope at him.

But at that moment, Slughorn emerged from the compartment and ushered him inside. "Harry m'boy, welcome, now the party can really begin." Harry was uncomfortably aware of Romilda's dark eyes on him as the compartment door slid shut. She didn't stop grinning at him and it was a bit unsettling.

Slughorn bustled around introducing him to the other students he had selected. Ginny was there and so was Neville. "This is Cormac McLaggen." Harry gave him a nod.

"This is Blaise Zabini, in your year I believe." Harry and the Gryffindors gave no sign of recognition or greeting. They loathed Slytherin students on principle.

"Now I have brought my own refreshments," said Slughorn lifting a picnic hamper onto the table. "I remember the tea trolley is heavy on liquorice wands and a poor old man's digestive system is hardly up to such things, so I thought I would bring some roasted pheasant to share."

That suited Harry.

Slughorn began to question Marcus Belby about his uncle causing him to choke on the pheasant. Poor boy, so nervous. Ginny grimaced so that Slughorn could not see. Harry smiled.

Harry got bored as Slughorn began to fawn over McLaggen for knowing the Minister for Magic. He wondered what was in the envelope Romilda gave him. He opened it and took out a small photo and gave a start. He leapt to his feet and left the compartment, barely hearing Slughorn calling after him. He stepped quickly down the corridor his senses in a whirl, unable to tear his eyes from the photo. It showed an adorable chubby little toddler with fine black hair - and startlingly green eyes, just like his own. Not only that, the child had a thin lightning bolt scar drawn across his forehead in what appeared to be pink ink. Harry could see that the photo resembled his baby pictures, but it was a different child, not him. He searched the train until he found Romilda Vane's compartment. He flung open the sliding door.

"Romilda!"

Romilda had been chatting with her friends, but she looked up and gave him a sly smile, pushing her long curly hair away from her face. "Oh dear, Harry, you know, you don't have to sit with me."

The other girls in the compartment giggled, but Harry was in no mood for games. "Romilda, what is the meaning of this?"

Romilda sighed. "See you later girls," she called, winking at them.

Harry followed her down the corridor until they reached a girl's lavatory. She swung the door aside. "We won't be disturbed in here," she said. He didn't argue. She slammed the door. "So you like the picture of my darling little Hildebrand. Who says single mums can't get attention?"

"If I were you I'd explain what I was talking about!" Harry was aware of his voice rising uncontrollably and he clutched his wand.

Romilda shook her head, her black curls bobbed and bounced. "Oh Harry, isn't it obvious? My little son is your child."

Harry felt like a leaden weight had dropped into his stomach. "Impossible," he said flatly, although he hoped against hope that it was not true.

"Impossible?" said Romilda, scratching her freckled nose and cocking her head to one side, contemplating him. "A few years ago you found out that magic was real and yet you still think you can be sure about 'impossible?' Listen, I'll tell you how it happened. You never did pay attention to me. But one night in our third year I was determined that you would at least look at me. It was after that awful Quidditch match in the middle of a thunderstorm and the Dementors had mobbed the pitch and made you fall. It broke my heart to see you lying so still in the hospital wing. So still. So pale. So helpless. I guess Madame Pomphrey must have given you a potion to make you sleep, because you wouldn't wake. I touched your cheek and it felt so cold. I remember I just thought I wanted to warm you, so I got on top of you and then ... when you were asleep like that you were so cute and I couldn't resist..."

Harry shivered. He felt paralysed with horror.

"I wasn't exactly proud of what I'd done and didn't tell anyone at first, but that Christmas, mum noticed that I was throwing up in the mornings. I daresay you didn't even notice me getting bigger and bigger though. I had my little Hildebrand that summer. I was so proud. I thought I wanted to pack in Hogwarts and be his mum properly. Mum wouldn't let me show my little darling off though. She wanted to keep it a secret that she was a gran and raise him as my little brother." Romilda scowled. "Well you know she got her way."

Romilda gripped Harry by the shoulders and glared at him. "But he is your first born son and he is my child and I named him Hildebrand, because it is as much like my name as possible. Believe it Harry. Chosen One or not, I took your son so you had better not ignore me now."

Words caught in Harry's throat. He was overwhelmed with horror, but now anger was rising in him. He could not believe it... and yet there it was... his hopes and dreams and first born son taken from him!


End file.
